


Bang Bang

by savvybby (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Badass!john, Declarations Of Love, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mary/Moran, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/savvybby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years it's time to go back home, Sherlock has to cope with the fact that he failed on his mission and that John will probably never forgive him. He's engaged to a tamed normal woman, he has a steady job making good money, and he's got a baby on the way. It's everything John's ever wanted. But what if the man Sherlock set out to get three years ago is right under his nose.</p><p>Inspired by Nancy Sinatra's song Bang Bang and a gif I saw on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bang Bang

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to ACD and BBC's Sherlock creators Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.
> 
> Not Betaed or britpicked so any and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> If you are a reader of one of my other fic's there will be a chapter up today or tomorrow and an explaintion on my long hiatus. I am truly very sorry for my absence and I hope you will understand once you read the reasoning behind it.
> 
> Inspired by this gif: http://johnmylock.tumblr.com/post/49232026201/captclockwork-benedct-amanda-abbington-as
> 
> and this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2LAdyE8lEU
> 
> The rating may go up, I haven't really decided yet but here you go ENJOY!!
> 
> PS: The titles are from the song, see if you can guess why I choose certain lines for each chapter :) Also follow my tumblr at: http://johnmylock.tumblr.com/ for updates.

** I was five and he was six, We rode on horses made of sticks... **

 

                Time.

  1. [Noun] An intrusive or single occasion for some event.
  2. [Noun] A period of time considered as a resource under your control and sufficient to accomplish something.
  3. [Noun] An indefinite period.
  4. [Noun] the continuum of ex-



 

3\. [Noun] An indefinite period.

 

Yes, that’s it. That’s what this feels like…

 

An Indefinite period. Never ending.

 

I watch the clock above the fireplace tick idly. Each tick becoming more torturous than the last. Round and round the minute hand goes, never getting anywhere sufficient. Looking to the ceiling, I see that there are bumps going along the surface, up and down like little hills growing the wrong way. My mother used to call them ‘Popcorn Ceilings’, I never understood it when I was younger. ‘How could a ceiling be made of food?’ Footsteps catch my attention; I shift my blasé gaze to the door and wait for the intrusion to come in. The door swings open to a tall man in a three-piece suit carrying an umbrella.

 

Mycroft Holmes.

 

“What could you possibly want from me?” 

Mycroft sighs and steps further into the hotel room.

 

“Brother-“

 

“Don’t. I really don’t need you lecturing me right now. I know I made a mistake, I lost him…” I shake my head in disbelief. “I lost him and then got in over my head trying to find him again.”

Mycroft goes to sit on the bed across from Sherlock, who’s on the arm chair, Legs draped over one side dangling close to the ground. He looks at me with what only I could tell was a sympathetic expression, to others it might’ve looked passive and sarcastic but I knew him well enough. He pulls a cigarette from his pocket and offers it to me with a lighter; I gladly reach over and take it. He waits until I’ve lit it and taken the first drag before he speaks.

 

“We have the man you were tracking in custody at the moment. We’ve been taking ‘hefty’ measures to extract the truth from him.” I rub at my eyes in frustration, remembering the man I’d been tracking for the past two years. I had gotten Intel that this man was the one I was looking for, Sebastian Moran. Ex- colonel, sharp-shooter and Moriarty’s right-hand man. A few months ago I had gotten so close almost capturing him until I found out that I’d been following a false man. Yes he was part of Moriarty’s web, but he was not Moran.

 

“He won’t know anything of importance! I highly doubt he’s going to know where Moran is, and even if he did, I really don’t expect him to inform us of his whereabouts.” I take another drag from my cigarette letting it linger in my lungs before blowing it out. It’s bright and shining outside the window, one of those few days where everything seems like it’s going to be alright. We sit in silence for a full twelve minutes, I’ve already finished my cigarette and am handed another when he speaks again.

 

“Go Home.” I pause as I go to light the stick hanging from my mouth, dropping the lighter to my lap.

 

“I can’t.” The cigarette bobbing up and down as I speak.

 

“Sherlock, I really don’t think Sebastian Moran is a threat to… _him_ any longer.” He’s careful not to say the name out loud, knowing how I’d react to simply hearing it. It’d been a long three years without him, three years without running around London chasing criminals and giggling at crime scenes. It’s even been to long since the four in the morning arguments over my violin and the quiet ‘bit not good’s given to me while socializing in public.

 

“I _can’t._ ”

 

“You can’t or you’re afraid to?” Sherlock gives him a dangerous look before quietly speaking.

 

“Why would I be scared?”

There's a pregnant pause before Mycroft speaks once more.

 

“How he’ll respond to the news, obviously.” Mycroft stands from his seat and walks to the door calling behind him.

 

“There will be a cab here in the morning and please refrain from trying anything… _funny_ , I have the whole building under surveillance. Good day brother.” And the door closes with a snap.

 

***

 

I trudge up the stairs to Mary’s apartment, cane clacking the whole way up. We’ve lived together the past two years in our own little bubble of life, the world kind of moving on its own accord without me and her. It hasn’t been easy really, to be in a relationship but after months of just sitting inside day by day waiting for a miracle that could never come true, you realize how wasteful your being with your life. So I decided to start taking walks in Regents Park and that's where I met Mary on one wet afternoon in October, she hasn’t left my side since. It hasn’t been the smoothest relationship I’ve been in but she’s made it easier, understanding my loss and waiting patiently by my side as I recovered and I honestly truly love her for that.

                Opening the door and walking in I see that the dining table has been set as if Thanksgiving has come early.

 

“What’s all this for?”

 

“Oh hello Lover, didn’t hear you come in.” I look up to her as she walks out, cocktail dress and all, to peck me on the cheek. “We’re having a guest over tonight.”

 

“A guest? Who?”

 

“I haven’t the slightest idea; some women came to the door to tell me we were having someone over. Strangest thing.” She continues her business in the kitchen while she converses.

 

“And you just went along with it? Did you even happen to catch her name?”

 

“Well she told me that it was an old friend of yours and I thought ‘He hasn’t seen any friends in forever! Why not, this’ll be fun!’ She refused to tell me her name though but she did tell me her employer was a man named Mr. Holmes.” She opens the oven to poke at the chicken.

 

“Holmes? As in H-O-L-M-E-S.” I spell it out for her.

 

“Yes, see here?” She sifts through some papers on the counter to pull out a small business card and hands it to me, the gold diamond ring on her right hand glinting in the light. I study the cards inscription and sure enough it says 'Mr. M. Holmes' on the front with a phone number.

 

“The woman also said that that number is especially for you, no one else has those digits. Whoever this man is, he’s obviously important. But the odd thing is, I had a hard time getting that from her, you’d think if it was that important she’d just give it to me to pass on to you.”

 

“How do you mean?” I was only half listening as I studied the card. Mycroft hadn’t had contact with him for three years, why was he coming out now?

 

“Well it seemed like she didn’t want to give it to me, she even said that she’d wait till you got home, but I ended up convincing her otherwise.” I looked up bemused.

 

“You… Convinced Anthea… To give you information?”

 

“Oh, you know her?”

 

“Barely. Every time we spoke she was completely tight lipped about anything. I literally don’t even think that’s her real name. The fact that you actually got her to give you more than that is an achievement.”

 

“Well if you give anyone a good incentive they’ll do almost anything for you.“ She smiles and laughs softly.

 

“Do you know when they’ll be here?” Right as I finish the buzzer rings.

 

“Right about now.” Mary giggles and goes to the door. I quickly, as quickly as you can with a bloody cane in your hand, put my work things in the bedroom and brush through my hair with my fingers trying in vain to make it presentable. I don’t know why but I had a feel it wasn’t Mycroft himself who was coming. As I’m walking back out I hear Mary speaking to someone, but when I can clearly see, it’s actually two someones. It looks like two of Mycroft’s men who are obviously distressing Mary. Slowly I walk into the room clearing my throat and they all turn toward me.

 

“Is something the matter?”

 

“There’s been a change of plans Mr. Watson; you’ll need to come with us.” One of them says. They are both easily a head taller than him and have a body build to match. I slip into captain mode with ease as I respond.

 

“The hell I am. What’s going on?”

 

“Everything will be explained later.” The man speaks again.

 

“No I’m thinking it should be explained now.”

 

“Sir I suggest we save this conversation for the car as it is a private matter.”

 

“Well I _suggest_ you tell me here right this second or we’re going to have a bigger problem. Whatever you need to tell me you can say in front of my fiancé. So what’s this about?” The man who has stood quiet the entire time finally speaks up.

 

“It's about Sherlock.”

**Author's Note:**

> review are always welcome and encouraged, good or bad. Makes for better writing in the future, thank your for reading!


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